


We will dance on the rooftop, the rooftop of the World

by Ewina



Series: JangObi Week 2021 [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banthas merchandise, Cockblocking, Foreplay, Good Parent Qui-Gon Jinn, Good Xanatos du Crion, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Jango Fett is a Little Shit, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), Jangobi Week 2021, Jaster Mereel Lives, Lapdance, M/M, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, No Beta, No Korda 6, Pole Dancing, Smut, Tags May Change, Undercover As Stripper, Undercover Missions, brothel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewina/pseuds/Ewina
Summary: I decided to post the first chapter of this baby for Jangobi Week 2021, for the prompt Undercover.He was expected in the Council chamber now. Slipping his feet in the fuzzy bantha slippers Xanatos had gifted him for his 16th birthday, he hurried to the Council room. He could have taken the time to get dressed but the summon had been urgent and sent in the middle of the night to a padawan who had just come back from an harrowing mission which had lasted a month. He was tired, he was cold and he wanted to sleep. If the Council wanted him now then they would have to take him the way he came… in pajama.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pre Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: JangObi Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140053
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108
Collections: Jangobi Week





	We will dance on the rooftop, the rooftop of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bureau_pinery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bureau_pinery/gifts).



> No beta, every mistakes are mine, if you catch any, tell me and I will correct them.  
> This fic is inspired by the incredible Bureau_pinery whose art is incredible. Tosh this is for you.  
> The title of this fic comes from Indochine - Les toits du monde

'Nothing had been normal about this mission' thought Obi-Wan. And he knew a lot about weird or abnormal missions as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. He had always assumed that the unfortunate way those assignments went sideways had to do with his Master's bad luck as much as it had to do with his rancor-headedness, for no other jedi got in as many strange situations as the man, but maybe his older brothers had not been as full of shit as he first believed when they had told him that said bad luck was more a lineage problem rather than a Qui-Gon Jinn problem. But believe it he did now. After all, how many jedi can truthfully declare they received a lapdance from a mandalorian? Or that they made out with said mandalorian?

Obviously it would have better if he had not done any of that considering the situation he was in now. But no one could ever accuse him of having impulse control. 

It would be a mess to explain to the Council but...  _ it was the Will of the Force. _

And the situation may not be so bad since it could maybe help smoothen out the relationship between the Order and Mandalore. And if he had to sacrifice himself for such a noble cause, well… it wouldn't be a hardship. 'Not a hardship at all', thought Obi-Wan as the beautiful mando sat himself on his lap again. He would have liked being able to touch him too, but being tied up was not that bad, it was even something he could learn to enjoy if only to get that gorgeous dark haired man rubbing himself against him, pulling at his hair, and sucking bruise on the pale skin of his neck. A moan escaped Obi-Wan's mouth as teeth dug in the meat of his shoulders. 'Oh yeah,he would learn to enjoy it. But he would enjoy it even more if he just…' using the Force he quickly loosened the rope to free his arms. Wrapping them around the other man's waist, Obi-Wan felt himself groan at the feeling of warm flesh under his hands, such a delightful feeling. His mando let out a noise of surprise when he felt hands on his back. This was wonderful, his sinfully gorgeous mando straddling his lap, the soft unmarred flesh of his back under his hands, and the seductive scent of the dark haired male, an enticing earthy musk mixed with some kind of spice. Obi-Wan smiled coyly at the mando’s wide blown pupils before capturing his lips in a soft and incredibly tender kiss. His mouth was soft and pliant under Obi-Wan’s, his taste was sweet and fruity from the cocktail he had drunk at the bar. His head was spinning as their lips moved against each other, their bodies so close no one would have been able to know to whom which limbs belonged, as they melted together. And to think that it all began with a summon from the Council.

  
  


* * *

The previous day

Obi-Wan had been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of a fist thundering against the door of the appartments he shared with his Master. With a groan of annoyance he got up and went to answer after having wrapped his bantha blanket around himself. The message the knight had for him was short and to the point. He was expected in the Council chamber now. Slipping his feet in the fuzzy bantha slippers Xanatos had gifted him for his 16th birthday, he hurried to the Council room. He could have taken the time to get dressed but the summon had been urgent and sent in the middle of the night to a padawan who had just come back from an harrowing mission which had lasted a month. He was tired, he was cold and he wanted to sleep. If the Council wanted him now then they would have to take him the way he came… in pajama. Obi-Wan did not doubt that his bad mood would come back to bite him in the ass and that he would be horrified once he got some rest but he was far too exhausted to even think about being nice or polite. He would go, he would listen to whatever the Council wanted and then he would burrow himself in his blankets and finish his night. 

The Councillors were all present except for his Great Grandmaster, and they had, thankfully, been more amused than anything else by his lack of decorum. They had apologized for summoning him at such an hour, explaining that it was an emergency. And while Obi-Wan didn't really see why he would be called instead of his Master, he knew the Council had a reason for everything. It was in the ship toward Merson accompanied only by Master Tholme and Quinlan that he realized exactly why he had been called without his Master. It was true that his lineage may be a tiny bit overprotective and they would have firmly opposed having the youngest of them being sent to a brothel, no matter how high class it supposedly was, and no matter the fact that he was just expected to keep an eye out for any illegal dealings. The briefing Master Tholme had given him mentioned the possible presence of some slavers specialised in Force Sensitive children.Still he did nothing to explain why he had been chosen for this mission, for he was training to be a diplomat, not a shadow, and undercover missions were not assignment for diplomats, especially not for padawan. 

  
  


The brothel or club or whatever it wanted to be called since Obi-Wan completely refused to use its name was a dark place with low lighting and a heavy atmosphere. Most of the lights in it were focused on the scene on which dancers were working. Most of them were twi'leks and Obi-Wan did not throw them a glance, too uneasy when he thought about little Aayla being forced in that situation if Quin hadn't saved her. But they couldn't save everyone, no matter how much he wished it was possible. 

* * *

Brothels were a terrible place for jedi or any kind of Force sensitive to be, the cloud of despair surrounding most of the workers made the places as far from enjoyable as possible. It may explain why Obi-Wan's attention was so easily caught by the dark haired man in the kind of harem clothes one would expect from rich businessbeings' concubines. He was undulating around a pole with the grace and smoothness expected of someone doing his job, but there was also something strange about it. He was dancing like he fought an invisible enemy. He wasn't as lithe and soft as the other dancers, in fact, he was packing more muscles than any of them. It may have been because of the acrobatics he did as he spun around the pole before stepping toward the excited crowd. Gracefully twirling on the tip of his toes, he wrapped one hand around the pole then the other as he brought his body parallel to the ground in a show of strength the crowd whistled at. The way he then moved his body was almost languorous as he finished his movement, toes pointed toward the sky and head down, muscles flexing against the strain. Obi-Wan was amazed by the sight. He did not believe he could do the same, even with the help of the Force. He would need to train his core muscles if he ever had to act as a dancer. Realizing he was risking his cover due to his lack of attention, he brought his focus back on the gorgeous male and his impressive musculature. 

He pivoted slightly before putting one foot against the length of the pole and, pushing on it, arched his whole body majestically toward the clients. Obi-Wan couldn't look away as the man began to walk in the air held only by the strength of his arms, muscles flexing and rolling under the skin. Suddenly he let himself drop toward the ground, stopping himself just as his hair brushed the floor, legs wrapped around the pole. He raised himself in a sitting position before gripping the pole with his hands and slowly sliding down until he was in a split on the ground showing an impressive flexibility. The show continued for a few more minutes until the beautiful man, and he was beautiful, and handsome, left the scene to join the bar and take a drink, skin shining under the subdued light.

Obi-Wan finally managed to look away and began to glance around, trying to feel in the Force any hints that would bring him precious informations on that slavery ring. At the same time he drank slowly from his glass, giving the impression that he was just another patron, here for some alcohol and the sight. 

* * *

Despite his demeanor and clothing, the redhead stuck out like a sore thumb to the eyes of a certain dancer. He acted like one of the usual patrons of this establishment, he was dressed like one too, but he knew that what quacked like a duck, looked like a duck and acted like a duck was not always a duck, like the thrice damned bird of Naboo. And the redhead was not someone who often came to places like that. He had felt him staring, mostly awe and curiosity but with a dash of lust that made the dancer wonders. He was pretty with his pale skin and ginger hair and he would certainly bruise beautifully as teeth burrowed in his skin. He barely contained his sigh of annoyance as his instinct began to rear its head. He wanted so much to drag the male in his room, bite him until his blood welled up upon his skin so he could lick it off, then he would ride him until he was satisfied, using him like a toy for his pleasure, and if he did well and the brunet felt in a merciful mood he would even let him share his bed for the night. This, he thought, sounded like a wonderful way to occupy his night. He truly couldn't wait to be done with this mission. Home was calling his name and impatience was beginning to take over. Finally, his act was done and he could leave the scene and venture toward the bar and drink something. 

Sitting himself gracefully on a stool, Jango asked a fruity cocktail to the bartender. While the zabrak prepared his drink, he discreetly glanced around the room, searching for his informant. The sound of his glass being put in front of him brought his mind back to the fact that he was thirsty, his contact could come to him or wait until he had satisfied his parched throat, it wouldn’t change anything. He took a sip of the pink fruity concoction, swirling it in his mouth once before swallowing, enjoying the way the sweet taste coated his whole mouth. He had almost finished his glass when he felt a body pressing itself against his side, before the being gave his order to the bartender. A finger discreetly rubbed his thigh before gripping the hand he had been planning to swat the pervert with. The feeling of a datastick being placed in his palm made him realize who exactly the pervert was: it was his informant. A glance from the corner of his eyes allowed him to confirm visually the identity of the pink skinned zeltron. With a barely there nod, he confirmed the reception of the stick, as the other took his drink and left to find somewhere to sit. With a soft sigh of pleasure, Jango decided to enjoy his last night on Merson by taking the pretty redhead to bed. Said male was still staring at him from his seat, devouring him with his eyes, and Jango resolved to play a bit with his food before consuming it. 

* * *

Walking around the room in a circle, making sure to lose the redhead’s sight by moving through the shadows, Jango began to plan the best way to make the other submit to him and his desires. The pretty male had, from what he saw, really enjoyed the sight of him dancing on the pole, his muscles flexing under the lighting.

Approaching from behind, Jango bent his body so he could wrap his arms loosely around the other’s torso, lips brushing against a delicate ear as he crooned throatily.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

The sudden tenseness of the redhead’s body didn’t surprise Jango in the least, nor did the lack of answer to his question. Raising himself back to his full height, the brunet moved until he was in front of his still frozen target. A flush had spread on the pale cheeks turning them pink from… shyness? embarrassment maybe? With a smirk which would suit a tooka better, Jango brushed a broad finger on that reddened cheek, moving slowly as he traced the contour of the male’s pretty face. Then without any warning, Jango let himself fall directly on the other’s lap, straddling him. The redhead’s face went completely blank, body tensing before relaxing, and for a second Jango feared he had went too far. The sight of a pink tongue licking at suddenly dry lips and two lust darkened eyes assured him that no, he had not gone too far, his target had just been caught… really off guard, and needed a minute to realize that no he was not dreaming. This was a good look for him, Jango thought, more natural in a way, that sweet innocence and delicate purity expressed in an expression of pure surprise. He really was not someone who came to this kind of place, not at all.

Jango was delighted though he tried not to show it to his prey, as he began moving, rubbing himself against the redhead and rotating his pelvis in small circles, giving the other what he knew was his first lapdance. It was not exactly something that Jango had enjoyed doing when he had to, but this time, with this man, was an experience. His future lover was sweet and shy, and wonderfully polite as he kept his hands for himself instead of groping Jango. He was a delight.Grinding himself one last time on his lap, the brunet ended his dance by curling himself on the redhead’s lap, and whispering in his ear.

“Would you like to come with me? I want you to stay with me tonight.”

The pretty man answered positively in a hoarse voice, breathing heavily.

Getting up, Jango grabbed him by the hand and led him away as soon as he had taken his things. They left the brothel by a side door, with a smile from one of the guards, before entering a small building. Jango pulled his companion with him toward his room, unlocking the door quickly. With a smile he threw the door open.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a link to Tosh's wonderful art  
> https://bureau-pinery.tumblr.com/post/639500202115514368/undercover-mission


End file.
